Three That Come Unbidden
by sdbubbles
Summary: "Triùir a thig gun iarraidh – gaol, eud is eagal." A phrase comes up in the course of a murder case, and those at whom it was aimed are forced to confront themselves and one another.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey, guys! This will only be a short two or three part story, based around a proverb I was taught by a friend whilst living in Portree. I hope it makes sense!**

 **It's set between series four and series five, just a couple of weeks after it comes to light that Sandra's dad committed suicide.**

 **Sarah x**

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Sandra sat in the office, stuck doing the paperwork for the case they had just solved. It had been complicated, to say the least, for the old woman who had been the key had dementia, and therefore lost all knowledge of the English language and only spoke in her first language: Gaelic. Scottish Gaelic. It made Sandra feel slightly guilty, but it had been frustrating, not to be able to understand her. Even Brian had very little knowledge of the language.

The woman's daughter spoke Gaelic, of course, but Sandra didn't trust her not to twist the translations – she didn't seem impartial. And Sandra had been right; it was the daughter, Eilidh, who murdered her father not long after they all moved to London in 1999, when she was nineteen.

In the end, they had been forced to pull a Gaelic-speaking PC from the Western Isles police force. A young woman of twenty-one, sent to translate for them; it turned out that the Met didn't have a translator for Gaelic. German, French, Thai, Arabic, Mandarin, Japanese, not a problem...but a native language of Britain? No way. Who needs a Gaelic-speaking officer in London?

After they had arrested Eilidh, the mother had been very upset. The PC, Catrìona, had managed to calm the elderly woman down, and it wasn't long before Catrìona was smiling with her, whatever they talked about. Catrìona said the woman asked to go back to her native Raasay, or nearby Skye, for she had nothing left for her in London, and her daughter could no longer look after her. So Catrìona obliged, asking Sandra to help her set the process in motion. To be honest, the woman would be better off back on one of the islands, where her culture and first language were still very much ingrained.

But Iseabail, the old woman, had looked directly at Sandra, and then to Gerry, and said something. In front of the others, Catrìona had refused to translate, and it had annoyed Sandra. However, she never got the chance to frighten it out of the girl, because the others had been listening.

Sandra startled slightly when there was a knock on her door; she had been lost in thought, away from the world currently surrounding her. It was Catrìona, her long black hair taken out of its bun now that she was finished for the day. She looked almost Hispanic, but apparently that was fairly common in the Western Isles. "I just came down to say goodbye, Superintendent," she smiled. "I caught Gerry, Jack and Brian on their way out. They're insisting I join them in the pub."

"Typical," Sandra chuckled slightly. "You'd better go, or I'll never hear the end of it."

"I will," she grinned. Catrìona had a _very_ thick Scottish accent, but not that stereotypical Glaswegian kind. It was almost as impossible to understand sometimes, but it came from a lifetime of Gaelic-medium education in Stronoway. "Aren't you going to ask?" Catrìona added.

Sandra looked down at the papers on her desk, almost embarrassed to admit she was very curious about what had been said about her and Gerry. It almost felt like she was invading on another culture to ask. "What did Iseabail say about me and Gerry?" she relented.

"Triùir a thig gun iarraidh – gaol, eud is eagal," Catrìona said.

"I heard that bit," returned Sandra. "But I don't have the first clue what it means."

"It means," began Catrìona, "Three that come unbidden – love, jealousy and fear."

Whatever Sandra expected, it wasn't that. Talk about speaking in riddles. "And that was said, why?"

"It's an old Gaelic proverb," was all Catrìona explained about the phrase's meaning. "Iseabail was looking only at you and Gerry when she said it. In my experience, elderly women have some wisdom, dementia or no dementia."

Sandra smiled to herself when she really thought about it. "Love, jealousy and fear are what keep the two of us alive."

Catrìona grinned at her. "Come out with us. Give me a proper big city send off. God knows Stornoway's the biggest place I'm going to see for a while after this."

"Oh, alright," Sandra smiled. "I can do this on Monday, I guess." Catrìona smiled as Sandra got up and put her coat on. "I'd ask you to teach me how to say that proverb, but I don't feel like providing a free comedy show," she quipped, switching the lights off. Catrìona burst out laughing, linking her arm with Sandra's. There was something comforting about Catrìona, and her smiley ways and warm demeanour. She was nothing like Sandra, even when Sandra had been twenty-one, but that was probably a good thing. For Catrìona, at least. She was sunny.

Sandra smiled to herself, wondering exactly what Catrìona was thinking of. Was she thinking about Gerry as much as Sandra had been today? Gerry had not been on great form once they realised who was the murderer – he did not do well with daughters who despised their fathers, and vice versa, as the case happened to be. He just couldn't get his head around it, and Sandra understood that. But, Christ, his mood was irritating.

 _Three that come unbidden – love, jealousy and fear._

 _Love, jealousy and fear._

 _Love._

 _Jealousy._

 _Fear._

 _Three th_ _at_ _come unbidden._

The words chased one another in Sandra's stretched and tired mind. Oh, why did that have to be said when she was so exhausted that she didn't even want to think about it. About Gerry. About herself. About anything, really.

The women met the three men in the pub, and Gerry instantly offered to buy the first round. Catrìona and Sandra sat together, opposite Gerry and Jack, while Brian sat on the edge of the corner bench. When Gerry sat back down, Sandra felt compelled to stare him in the eyes and try and find within him what he felt for her. He looked at her with all three of those things Iseabail had worded. Gaol, eud is eagal. Love, jealousy and fear. Only now did she see it clearly.

She'd never considered jealousy in him before, but now she thought on it, he had been pretty unenthusiastic about any man Sandra went near, even if it was with a ten foot barge pole. Never had she entertained that idea.

She had never really considered that he might love her in any way, either, but now she had to doubt the conclusions of her own ignorance. He had been fiercely protective of her on a few occasions, but she had let herself assume that he only protected her because he thought she was weak. But he didn't think that at all, did he?

And he _did_ look at her with fear in his eyes. To be honest, he always had done, from the first day he realised she was not the type of woman he was used to working with. But recently that fear had changed. It wasn't a fear _of_ her. It was a fear he held _for_ her. He was scared for her. And she had an inkling that she knew why; she was distancing herself, and she knew he didn't like it much. Since the truth about her father's death came to light – though part of her still didn't believe it, weeks later – she had put a wedge between herself and her team. Particularly Jack. But Jack wasn't like Gerry. Jack wasn't one to force her hand, whereas Gerry would if he thought he had no choice.

Had Iseabail seen all this before Sandra had? Was Sandra _that_ blind?

The problem was that Iseabail was right – they came unbidden. They came without invitation or warning, and there was bugger all to be done to get rid of each one of those three emotions. Gerry and Sandra were two peas in a pod, and they both knew it. They both felt emotion but struggled to express it without coming across as simply angry. It was a bad habit, but it was theirs. At least half the occasions she and Gerry shouted at one another, it was not brought on by anger. It was brought on by a huge mess of emotion, anger only a tiny portion of that mess.

Sandra had to speak to him. To allay his fears, to find out what he felt jealous of, to find out what it was he loved. Or who.

"What you starin' at?!" demanded a rough, Cockney voice. Sandra's reverie was broken and she shook her head slightly. She had been staring at Gerry and he had noticed. That was stupid of her, to look at him so long that he noticed. "Sandra?" he asked; this time he sounded a bit worried.

"Nothing," she smiled, making him smile back at her.

"Triùir a thig gun iarraidh – gaol, eud is eagal."

Everyone turned and looked at Catrìona, who just smiled into her glass of wine. Gerry didn't ask, and neither did Jack or Brian, and Sandra didn't need to. But Gerry did look curious. "Slàinte mhath!" Catrìona toasted, putting her glass in the air between the five of them.

Sandra looked at Gerry, Jack and Brian, who all shrugged and said in unison, "Cheers!"

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 **Hope you like it so far!  
Please feel free to leave me a review and tell me your thoughts!  
Sarah x**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks as always to everyone who has read and reviewed - I've loved writing this. This is that last chapter, but I may consider doing a sequelly-thing with it, if anyone wants it.**

 **Sarah x**

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When the night was over, and it was too late to justify keeping Catrìona out when she had a plane to catch tomorrow morning, as well as two bus journeys and a ferry journey, Sandra suggested packing up and going home. In part, it was so she didn't drink any more and end up with a hangover, and because she didn't want to contemplate that Gaelic proverb any longer.

But she was going to contemplate it long after Catrìona left, and she knew it. She was only glad nobody explained to Gerry what it translated to be. She wasn't even sure she really did want him to know. However, how was she meant to look him in the eyes after thinking about it and not talking to him?

Had she ever been honest with herself about Gerry?

Yes, sometimes she wanted to uphold her promise to Jack, the one she made when she first met Gerry, that she was going to deck him. Who would blame her? She tried her best to ignore him, she really did, but he always managed to somehow get under her skin and make her wonder.

Sandra didn't know about the first two – love and jealousy – but she was certain she feared Gerry. Not that she was scared of him. She wasn't, not in the slightest. But she feared how easily he saw through her, and how he always knew when to worry about her. She feared she had let him know her too well.

As it was, they were both too drunk to drive, and even Gerry was too sensible to attempt it. Brian, of course, could not drive, and Jack only lived a short cab ride away. But Sandra and Gerry lived in the opposite direction from Jack, and further away, and therefore had a slight problem. It was only a mile and a half to her place, and he was quite welcome to crash on her couch. They could quite easily have got a cab themselves, but she was in the mood for a walk. She had no idea why, but she wanted a walk.

She led Gerry in the right direction, but he protested, "Sandra, what's wrong with a bleedin' taxi?!"

"It's a nice night," she airily replied. "A walk's not going to kill you, Gerry!" she grinned, grabbing his arm. He was warm and soft, and everything she pretended she didn't want from life. She didn't want the mysterious, the ambiguous, the dramatic. She got more than enough of that from her work.

She wanted some security, some friendship, some honesty, some love. And, yes, jealousy and fear came hand-in-hand with love, but if it was the honest kind and it was dealt with reasonably, then it was healthy, and it was real.

They walked in silence for a good fifteen minutes, the mild breeze blowing between them. Until, predictably, Gerry failed to keep his mouth shut. "What was all that Gaelic Catrìona threw at me earlier?"

"I'm not repeating it," Sandra told him sternly. "I refuse to make a fool of myself trying to speak Gaelic."

"The English, then," he answered her, sounding somewhat exasperated. "She told you what it means, Sandra. I saw it in your face." He was right, of course. She knew something must have given it away, and he knew her so well now that it needn't have been anything major. "What does it mean?"

Sandra didn't answer immediately. How could she when she wasn't sure what she ought to say? But about a fifty yards down the road, Sandra spotted a children's play park, and sat down on one of the swings. Maybe that wasn't wise while she was under the influence, but then adolescents the world over did it, and they were no more sober than she was.

Gerry didn't question her. He just sat in the swing next to her and swayed gently with its movement.

"'Three that come unbidden – love, jealousy and fear,'" she said, and her voice felt so small. "That was what Iseabail said to us. What Catrìona said to us."

And suddenly, her heart hurt. Knowing Gerry knew what was said, it made her heart hurt. It was the knowledge that there was a part of her left vulnerable, that she was not impenetrable. Her instinct was to clam up there and then, but she had to have the courage not to do that.

A hand touched her shoulder, and Sandra turned in surprise. "She's right. You scare the shit out of me," he solemnly informed her. That sombre expression on his face made her burst into a fit of laughter, and her laughter made him start. "Sorry," he chuckled. "I couldn't 'elp meself."

"I know I'm a bit heavy handed with you sometimes," she assured him. "You can be hard to keep a leash on."

Sandra stared at the black mats used for a floor, lit by the orange lights above. Trust Gerry to make a joke and deflect away from the situation. "No, no," he eventually sighed. "She's right about all of it."

"What?" Sandra asked, turning her head again, but this time to frown at him.

He smiled slightly at her, but what was he smiling about? She was frowning at him, which normally meant he was in trouble. Big trouble. When he spoke, though, he surprised her. "You'll never see yourself the way I see you," he explained to her. "You're this terrifying, driven, intelligent, funny, beautiful woman, and you're never gonna see that. So, yeah, you scare me. But at the same time, you're lovable. You're scared yourself, now more than ever, and you still try to be the strong one."

She stared straight ahead at the climbing frame, horribly aware that she was silently crying. She couldn't help it. He had hit the nail on the head – she was scared. She was more scared now than she had ever been, and the root of most of it was that she had found out in the past few weeks that almost everything she knew of her father appeared to have been a lie. She was scared because her own mother had lied to her, and so had Jack. With the best of intent, she was sure, but they had lied to her for thirty years.

She was scared because she didn't know what the future held anymore. She didn't want to feel alone like her father must have done near the end of his life.

Her ways were hard to break.

"Did you think I didn't notice?" he asked her gently.

Honestly, she _had_ thought it had gone unnoticed. She believed their silence had meant that she was convincing in her 'everything's fine' act. It was then, knowing that someone else had seen through that act, that she realised she was never going to be the same. She was never going to trust her mother like before. Jack was another story, because he had actually been trying to protect her, but she couldn't help but wonder if her mother had really just been trying to avoid talking about it, and explaining to her daughter some of the more difficult things in life.

Sandra took a hand off one of the chains and wiped her tears away, hoping in vain that Gerry hadn't seen them.

And, as usual, rather than face him, she got up and walked away. She didn't want to speak to anyone about how she felt about her parents' behaviour, about Jack's secrecy. It was her knee-jerk reaction, and something she doubted she could change at her age.

At the gate, he caught up with her; she could still feel the hot tears running down her cheeks. Some kind of floodgate had opened within her. Every emotion she was barricading in was breaking out. His hand was in hers. Not around her wrist, like she had been expecting. They were standing there, hand-in-hand.

"Sandra, I don't mean to upset you," he said to her, and she turned around to face him. He already knew she was crying, so why bother hiding it any longer? "All I'm trying to say is that I see you. I see everything. There's nothin' in you that I don't like. I care about you," he admitted. "Christ, why do you think I threw a hissy over you diving with that lot in the quarry? I _care_. I..." he hesitated. Sandra raised an eyebrow at him, trying to scare him out of saying it. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear it. But, of course, it was Gerry, and he went ahead and did it anyway. "I love you. 'Ave done for a while now."

To her surprise, she smiled. She still cried, but she smiled. Let out a shocked laugh. She hadn't expected him to be so open. Had the drink finally gone to his head?

But she shook that thought away. Why couldn't she trust him? Yes, he did some incredibly stupid things, usually to get somewhere with a case, or to protect her or his family, but he was not a malicious man. Under all that brawn, he was a soft, caring, affectionate, loving man. Irritating, but loving.

Still shocked, she felt Gerry's fingers wipe away her tears. The wall fell down. Crumbled to the ground. For the first time, it was Sandra who reached out to Gerry, putting her arms around him and falling against him.

He rubbed her back lightly, and she felt him plant a kiss into her hair. Sandra couldn't tell him she loved him. She did – she had ascertained that a while ago – but she didn't have the emotional energy required to say those words right now. She hoped he understood that. Well, actually, she knew he did.

"C'mon," he whispered in her ear, "let's get you 'ome."

She smiled, and let him link arms with her, and led him towards her home. There was a lot to think about, and a lot of courage she had to find in herself. She was sick of hiding. She was jealous of how Gerry was, in some ways, able to wear his heart on his sleeve. It scared her, too, because it was so fierce and bright in him. But she loved it. She loved him for it.

Sandra let her head fall onto Gerry's shoulder, too tired to keep up the act of not feeling close to him. "I think I'm gonna need to borrow your couch tonight, Sandra," she heard Gerry laugh. "I ain't walkin' any further than your place."

"I've already decided you're using the sofa," she informed him with a small smile. "Catrìona was right when she said it comes unbidden."

Gerry let out a single laugh. "Nothin' is ever simple. Here was me thinkin' you knew that already."

Sandra smiled at his wisdom.

She unlocked and opened the front door, dropped her bag, took off her boots, and hung up her coat. She was tired. Mentally and emotionally exhausted. Maybe one day she could have a real relationship. A relationship of equality, where she didn't treat the man like she was in charge of them; sometimes she couldn't help doing that. If they didn't have control, they couldn't really hurt her.

Sandra threw herself onto the sofa and closed her eyes, hoping one day she could be better than this.

Gerry sat down next to her, and put his arm around her, letting her head fall onto his shoulder again. Right there, at that moment, she felt a flash of the courage she knew she needed. It was in her. He just brought it out of its hiding place and into her heart.

In that moment of mad courage, she turned around and waited for him to look at her. Before her strength slipped away, she said, so quietly that he might not have heard, "I love you, Gerry."

He smiled and touched his lips with hers, but somehow he knew that was all she was capable of tonight. Somehow, he had realised she had a lot of trust to build within herself, after having it knocked apart so brutally.

One day.

One day, the three that came unbidden would be embraced with open arms.

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 **Hope you enjoyed it!  
Please feel free to leave a review and tell me what your thoughts are!  
Sarah x**


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